


Wicked Embrace

by TheChampion04



Category: BioWare - Fandom, Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Card Games, Dalish Elves, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Flirting, Guilty Pleasures, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Red Templars, Rough Kissing, Sexual Content, Table Sex, Teasing, Wicked Grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6374821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChampion04/pseuds/TheChampion04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the event of Samson's judgment for his transgressions, the Red Templar is sentenced to serve the Inquisition for life. Elora took it upon herself to supervise most of his time with Dagna while the alchemist studied his tolerance to Red Lyrium. During those months, they two had gotten very close. One would say they'd become friends as well as allies. </p><p>When Solas broke her heart after defeating Corypheus, Elora found herself drinking away her sorrows. Everyone in Skyhold, especially her closest friends, quickly noticed their Inquisitor's change in behavior, and all began to worry about her. Annoyed with everyone's persistent invasion of her privacy, She decides to go missing one day. Samson decides to go searching for her, and what he finds is not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Embrace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavellan/Samson Shippers Everywhere](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lavellan%2FSamson+Shippers+Everywhere).



> I was very inspired while playing DAI and watching some of my favorite BBC shows during one very sick day. There was a scene in one of them that I thought would be the perfect scenario for Samson and Elora Lavellan. So I said, "Why not do that?" So I did in my own little evil way. BASQUE IN THE SMUT! (Or BEWARE for those of you who don't like smut so best not to keep reading then.) 
> 
> PS: Thank you KristaRabbit for assisting me with the Title and being the best Beta a girl could ever ask for. You rock hot pockets!
> 
> Forgot to add that if you are a Cullen fan, please be aware that this one shot does not favor him at all. I LOVE Cullen don't get me wrong, but for the sake of the integrity of this fic, I am not kind to him. Please don't be angry with me.

Elora and Samson had been sitting down at the table for the last couple of hours. The two were facing off behind walls of cards. The little game of Wicked Grace took a turn into something with much higher stakes. It was strange being in the same room together just the two of them... _alone_. The last time it was just the two of them he had her in a choke hold in his jail cell threatening to take her life. Now they sat there in a spare room at the Tavern trying to beat the other at this pest of a card game. They had come a very long way from being bitter rivals to tolerable acquaintances.

During Dagna’s studies of Samson’s tolerance to Red Lyrium, the Inquisitor spent many of those days observing from the sidelines as more of a supervisor than a curious spectator. Elora was equally eager to see what the lyrium did to him. Within those last few months, both Elora and Samson managed to put aside their differences and had developed a close bond. In the beginning Elora assisted Dagna with most of Samson’s tests to keep a closer eye on him, mostly out of her own captivated interest. Samson didn't seem to mind after a few weeks. The longer Dagna examined him, the more tolerant he was with cooperating. Their relationship started out troublesome at first, but with time and the help of Dagna, Samson and Elora manage to develop a rather chummy alliance. With that he managed to earn her trust and the Inquisition was willing to allow the Red Templar to fight for their cause. He still drove her mental most days; he was smug and crass, but ever since Solas came and turned her world upside down, Samson had been right beside her.

One night Elora sought refuge at the Skyhold Tavern. After Solas returned only to break her heart and betrayed everything they had built together, the Inquisitor just hadn't been the same. Elora took it hard and for weeks it left her morbidly depressed. Lately she felt it was best to drink away her sorrows. Everyone in Skyhold noticed her strange behavior instantly and tried to force her to move on. Samson knew better than to think she could simply switch the pain off with a snap of the finger.

As strong as she was, no one was immune to a broken heart or betrayal. Samson knew them both only too well, and if he understood anything he knew heartbreak took patience to heal. There was a time when he underestimated her efforts to fix him. Never in a million years did he think he could fight off his demons, but the trick was patience and she never rushed him. She was forgiving and willing to endure his anger. Everyone in this Inquisition owed her the same courtesy, and he needed her to know he would offer her that.

That evening, both Samson and Cullen had gone to see Varric. Each of them were equally driven to offer their Inquisitor comfort. The dwarf was the only one of her companions who knew where she could be, but the archer made it clear she wanted to be left alone. Cullen wasn’t pleased with Varric’s answer and stormed off with little patience. Samson however, was not buying into the manipulative dwarf’s lack of information and tried to reason with him. Eventually, the bare-chested rogue tipped Samson that Elora could be found at the Tavern. Samson wasn't sure why the dwarf trusted the Red Templar over their virtuous Commander. Maybe Varric knew something that Samson did not.

Cullen was just as eager to be her shoulder to cry on, but Maker be damned if Samson would let the Commander get in the way. He knew Cullen had a soft spot for the Inquisitor and it was excruciating having to witness his lack of imagination or initiative to win her heart. Samson wasn't about to allow Cullen to succeed. He knew it was preposterous to think a woman like Elora would be ultimately interested in an old convicted criminal, but he still couldn't bear the thought of her hurting alone. He was content in simply being there for her if she needed it.

Samson arrived at the Tavern, and it was crowded and loud. The ambience was much too busy for her liking and certainly the last place anyone would look for their Inquisitor. He scanned the area, all eyes watching the Red Templar and either looked angry or very weary of him. He saw no signs of Elora in the mass of disturbed patrons. Samson ignored their staring and passed them by with little interest. He figured Varric could've easily spun that little detail to lead him off, until he noticed the rooms upstairs.

Samson went up and searched the second floor where one door was left ajar. He knocked once and allowed himself in. There, sitting on the floor, was the infamous Herald slouched lazily to one side and very intoxicated. With a flask in hand she carelessly tossed back a swig and caught Samson from the corner of her eye. Instead of getting angry at his intrusion, she simply gave a weak smile.

“WELL if it izn't th’ former Templer who eats red rocks. Care fer a sip?” She belched mid-sentence as she held her flask up towards him and nearly toppled over, but Samson was quick to keep her from hitting her face on the floor boards. _Fantastic._

“If you’re able sit up on your own Inquisitor, I'd be happy ta join. Now c’mon.” He reached under her arms as if to lift her so she could sit upright. When he let go he watched and waited to see if the Herald was sober enough to keep up.

Elora was about to toss back another splash of brandy, but Samson snatched the flask from her. “Hey! That's _mine._ ” Their beloved Herald began grabbing for her drink like a toddler reaching for its toy. 

Samson's eyes rolled. “Is that how ya treat your guest? Ya offer me a drink and ya try ta take it from me? That's very rude.”

Elora appeared shameful, and began to tear up while she watched Samson take a shy sip. “I'm _not_ rude. Imma _vry_ nice person. _Er’body_ loves me. Except Solas; dread wolf bastard,” she whimpered drunkenly under her breath.

“Yes I'm sure they do,” Samson agreed simply before placing the flask on the table next to them; trying not express his amusement towards her current state.

“ _You_ luv me don't ya Samson?” Elora started tugging at his tunic with both hands.

Samson quickly withdrew from her insistent grabby hands. “Why do ya care if I love ya or not, Inquisitor? Why don’t we get you back to your room?” He attempted to bend down to help get Elora back on her feet, but she refused.

“No! Not unless you tell me ya love me,” she demanded, crossing her arms like a child.

“Ugh.” Samson felt a headache coming. He was not expecting this level of immaturity. His impatience with Elora began to run its course. He got back on his feet to leave and regretted ever wanting to look for her. He was about to turn on his heel when Elora snatched Samson's hand to stop him from leaving.

“Wait, dun’ leave Samson,” she whined.

“You're actin’ like a bloody child,” Samson accused and pulled away from her.

“Please dun leave. I promise I'll b’ quiet.” She was too buzzed to understand why her words annoyed him so much. When he didn’t respond to her pleading, she made one last desperate attempt to keep him from leaving. “At least stay fer a card game? I've been trying t’ find someone t’ help me master Wicked Grace while drunk. Sera has beaten me _evry_ time and she gets more wasted than I do.”

“You mean to tell me you're gettin’ sloshed just to get better at playin’ cards?” Samson could not believe what she was telling him.

“It's been...helping me keep my mind off...things.” As vague as she was being, Samson knew exactly what and who she was referring to. It softened his demeanor a bit. He never quite understood what she saw in that pesky elven mage, but regardless he hurt her badly, and she had every right to cope however she wanted.

“Ugh, very well. Deal ‘em up Inquisitor.” Samson indulged Elora’s request and took a seat by the table next to her. He ignored her face when it lit up. She was trying so desperately to keep herself composed.

A couple hours later, they were on their fifth game. Samson had become slightly more inebriated after running back downstairs to get refills, but Elora had sobered up a bit as time passed. She was less clingy and more eager to play the game. The former Templar even became more comfortable around the rogue. She was tossed when he first arrived, but her behavior mellowed and grew less childish. Elora’s auburn hair fell loose in front of her face reminding him of her natural charm as she kept a keen eye on her hand. She looked very tenacious. Samson leaned forward to admire her casually, and watched her horrible attempts at bluffing.

“Are you convinced you're not the best Wicked Grace player yet? I feel like we are on our hundredth game.” Samson drew and discarded his cards with one hand and placed his face lazily in the other. Elora was eyeballing his every move. Hoping he didn't pick the death card.

“Admitting defeat so soon Templar?” Elora sat there hunched and reorganized her cards randomly as if she was being convincingly strategic.

“You've lost every game since we've started,” Samson corrected while keeping his expression blank.

Elora grabbed a new card and slammed her old one back in the discard pile. “Your move _Samson._ ” Samson didn't even flinch.

A few more drawn out minutes went by and Samson found himself studying Elora a lot more than normal. Most of their time together was wasted on arguing and shouting. She was such a pain he sometimes questioned how she ever got the title of Inquisitor in the first place. Yet, when he least suspected it she always managed to surprise him. Maybe it was his ale. Regardless of the reason he admired her confidence even if she was over ambitious.

Elora looked up for just a moment and caught Samson lingering. She misread it as him trying to catch her bluff. “What are _you_ looking at? Getting nervous? Afraid I may beat you again?”

“As if I’d admit that to you. I was simply wonderin’ how you've been lately. Your advisers have grown concerned since...well, since everythin’ went to shit.” Samson put away two cards this time.

“I'm fine.” Elora disregarded his concern and kept her eyes fixated on his every move.

“Are you? Or are you distractin’ ya’self instead of facin’ the inevitable?” Samson rearranged his five cards carefully.

“Why is everyone so worried about me? It was just foolish nonsense; nothing more. If I wanted any help I would ask for it. I just don’t feel like dealing with everyone or anyone barging into my personal business like they give a damn. Not sure why they need me. The four of them were doing just fine before I came along.” Elora irritably replaced another card trying to ignore Samson's questioning eyes.

“Yes, but you're their Herald. Sometimes ya don't always get the choice to take a vacation. Besides, I can think of a certain Commander in particular that wishes you'd come back,” Samson insinuated, which earned him a rolling of the eyes then quickly to a face that looked as if she just smelled a blighted corpse. It almost made him bust a gut laughing, but for the sake of the game he kept himself resolved.

“Right. Then there's Cullen; the pretty boy. Yeah, pretty spineless,” Elora expressed begrudgingly.

Samson finally couldn't contain his snort. He blamed the alcohol. “I take it you don't like him that much? Not that I blame you. The man is a pretentious prick.” He reached around and grabbed his pint of ale and took another generous swig, his eyes never leaving his hand.

“He's...not _that_ bad. He’s got honorable intentions...and he’s tall.” Elora managed to squeeze out a couple dull, but positive characteristics.

Samson chuckled; somewhat surprised that she didn't fancy the eligible bachelor as much as all the other woman who fawned over the Commander. “And he's available. He could make for a fun distraction,” he teased.

“I've got plenty of distractions, thank you very much. Don't be gross.” Elora went and kicked Samson in the leg. Samson laughed.

“What? Don't fancy humans? You inta girls or somethin’?” Samson was genuinely curious.

“No it isn't that. I just don't share the same feelings for Blondie. Not that it's any of _your_ business. Now quit your yapping and get your head back in the game. _You're_ the one being distracting.” Elora hunkered down behind her cards and averted her eye contact. Samson chuckled.

Another few minutes went by in silence and Elora found herself looking over at Samson with intrigued suspicion. It started out as a way of strategy, but eventually the more she looked the more she noticed specific things. Like the way he lounged forward a bit with one elbow resting on the table. She watched as a free hand ran through his dark, thick hair. He didn't seem to notice that she was shamelessly staring. Maybe because she had been looking over at him a lot this evening? He was probably used to it, or just pretended not to notice. If she was being honest with herself, she'd go as far to say she fancied him slightly more this evening, and that wasn't the booze talking. She thought back to his previous question of whether or not she fancied humans. Her curiosity was nagging. Not that she cared. Or did she? She tried to wipe the thought away with some more brandy.

“So, do you fancy elves?” Her question came out quickly like vomit. She wanted to slam her face on the table.

Samson glanced at Elora with somewhat alarmed intrigue. “Do I what?”

“Well since you asked, I felt it's only fair that I pry into your business,” Elora recanted horribly. She knew she was blushing at this point, but it wasn't as if they weren't drinking. She felt relatively safe asking.

“I fancy whoever’s ready and willing,” he answered dryly while tossing back another drink. Not that what he said was entirely true, he just liked to see her irritated. It was cute.

“Ugh, fine don't tell me.”

“What's there to tell? Yes, I like elves. I just don't have a specific preference in which I choose to spend my time with.” Samson tried to explain while refusing to give her eye contact. He wasn't sure why she was suddenly asking these ridiculous questions.

“Isn't there anyone you find more attractive than the other?” Elora was relentlessly inquisitive. The irony made him laugh to himself.

“Of course I do. I'm only human after all. But it makes no difference. Have ya forgotten I'm a war criminal? Not to mention, I'm an ugly old fucker; can't be too picky these days.” Samson sat there remembering the questioning stare he got when he first arrived then tried to focus on his hand hoping he didn't come off too pathetic in front of the Inquisitor.

Elora eyed him for a moment to take in what he had just expressed. The man thought he was ugly? Certainly she didn't believe a word of that. Sure, you could see a few drawn out lines of time in his face, but for a man his age that was normal. The effects of red lyrium were not very forgiving either. There were more prominent veins that showed throughout his arms and neck, and his eyes were constantly bloodshot, but aside from that he looked fine; nothing to be ashamed of. For an older man he was actually quite attractive. If someone were to ask her about Samson, she would never think to label him disgusting by any means. Samson finally caught her ogling. Here she was, the Inquisitor staring at _him._ Maker only knew what in Thedas she was thinking. Probably realized just how worthless he was.

“I don't think you're as revolting as you say.” Elora placed a card back in the deck trying not to appear coy.

That took him by surprise. The Herald found him attractive? Definitely not what he thought she would say because by the Maker she was naturally _stunning._ Must have been the ale making him see things that he shouldn't. He’d been spending quite a lot of time with her recently. Placing all differences and arguments aside, he grew to respect her highly. Judging by the way she’d been treating him it appeared she respected him as well. It was the first genuine compliment he had received in Maker only knew how long. Felt really good.

“And you don't look that old. What are you, sixty?” Elora guessed poorly.

“ _Ouch_ Inquisitor. I'm forty six. Close enough to some I suppose.” Samson made it seem like he was more offended than he really was.

“Elves don't age as fast as humans, you know. So in elf years you're not that much older than I am.” Elora hoped that helped make him feel younger.

“Is that right?” Samson knew about elven longevity, but he humored her anyway while switching out another card. “Good to know there's hope for this geezer.” He grabbed the next card and pulled the ‘Angel of Death’ card without her noticing.

If Elora didn't know any better, she could've sworn Samson was flirting with her. Either that or she was more plastered than she thought. A sweet smile found its way to her lips and Samson was taken aback by it. Was the Inquisitor actually flattered? Forget being surprised, he was utterly shocked. Was it the influence of liquor? Possibly, but the elf was too damn charming for him to resist. As a man he had little self-control to be on his best behavior. The drawn line was being tested and after seeing her reaction to his philandering he was curious to see just how much farther he could go. Their playful banter was innocent enough and he had zero intention on taking advantage of her. After his assault in the dungeons, Samson personally swore that he would never harm her again. However, if she came to him seeking comfort, he wouldn't resist.

The Templar couldn't keep his eyes off her now. He caught her taking a curious peek at him, but quickly looked back at her cards thinking that wouldn't be suspicious. Samson wanted to mock her, but he kept his remarks to himself this time. Instead he was formulating what to say next.

That's when he decided to blow caution to the wind and make their evening more interesting.

He gave her smug smile and scooted closer to where she sat. He revealed the Death card to her. She noticed it instantly and felt her chest get heavy. “I say we up the ante, shall we? Make this game more interesting. Whatya say, Inquisitor?” He was looking directly into her glowing emerald colored eyes and the confused expression on her face. Being this close to her made his plan even more convincing.

“Oh really? What do you want, money? New armor? I don't have much these days.” She leaned in even closer and rest her chin in her hand. Elora had no idea if it was right to give in so easily to Samson's pursuit, but it was enough to keep her from thinking about Solas. Was she not allowed to move on and have a bit of fun in the process? Her advisers would throw conniptions if they knew she was enjoying his company. Which was fair; he was a criminal. She knew well enough of what he had done before and what he was capable of, but she trusted that the Templar had her best interests at heart. Sure they didn't get along all the time, but he looked so handsome sitting there grinning at her like that. _Fuck_ proprieties and _fuck_ the Inquisition.

“If I win, I want a kiss.” He didn't even hesitate and her face went as red as the lyrium in his veins.

Elora almost spat out brandy all over herself. She wiped the dripping liquor from her mouth and tried not to get too excited by his outlandish request. What on earth was he even thinking? Since when did he want to kiss her so bad that he was willing to bet on it? As if she would allow him the pleasure of that so easily knowing she would more than likely lose. Yet, the thought of him pressing his lips to hers wasn't exactly terrible. There was no point in raising the stakes. Maybe she could cheat and lose on purpose, or maybe he was playing an evil trick to make her look foolish. That was also a strong possibility; one she wasn't prepared to deal with right now.

“Ugh, then I fold.” She played it cool and threw her cards face down on the table.

“Your choice Inquisitor.” Samson set his cards face down and took another drink. Elora just sat up and measured him up for a second.

“You're bluffing,” she accused after a pause.

“Possibly, but it doesn't matter now does it? You folded,” Samson mocked.

Elora crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow with suspicion. “What sort of kiss do you want?”

“A normal one.” Samson shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nothing more?” Elora didn't believe him and took another drink.

“Nope, nothing more.” Samson sat back to remain contemplative.

Elora put her flask down and picked up her cards again to look at them. “Alright, I'll see you for this _normal kiss._ ” She looked determined to win.

Samson didn't even bother to check his hand and laid them down one by one. “Read them an’ weep Inquisitor.”

Elora's eyes widened seeing an entire suit of Serpents. “Five Serpents? Fuck, you weren't bluffing.”

“I never do. Or do I?” Samson held his smug tone.

Elora bit her knuckle and figured he must have meant to bet on a kiss this entire time. Feeling defeated she finally placed her cards down like a sore sport. “Two knights, a Song of Mercy, one Angel…and a Hanged Man.” Samson leaned over to see them and couldn't help but find it amusing.

“Ah, yet another Tarot card. Tsk tsk. Such a bloody shame because I believe you owe me.” Samson’s smirk grew as he took all the cards and stacked them together in a clean stack, leaving out the Tarot card.

Elora went quiet for a moment trying not to feel like a loser. She saw that Samson was sitting there waiting patiently for his payment. She let out a worn out sigh and sat up much closer to him.

“Alright, let's get this over with,” she complained.

His face was in full view. The red of his eyes glimmered from the candlelight and she tried her best to not get nervous. The second he placed his cup down he got even closer. Elora’s heart began to thud rapidly. He licked his lips so they would be comfortably pleasant to the touch. His mouth looked so scrumptious it made Elora almost faint. She needed to keep her ground; otherwise he'd truly win this game. He was about to lean in for it, but Elora chickened out and shoved him away.

“Don't get sneaky. It’s just a kiss, understand?” She pointed her finger in his face just to make it clear this was merely a payment to the bet.

Samson nodded politely with that cunning look on his face. She then sat there puckering her lips towards him. He reached up and took her by the collar of her shirt. Very slowly, he closed the distance between them and planted his lips ever so gently to hers.

His kiss was tender and modest. It was perfect. Elora was caught off guard and felt a shock to her senses. When she felt her body react she tensed up and drew back instantly to break away from his excruciatingly supple lips. She hadn't expected the kiss to feel so overwhelming.

The two of them stared at one another. She looked at Samson and was completely stunned. So was he, and didn't say a word. Neither of them did. He seemed just as anxious as she was. Both were waiting for the other to say or _do_ anything.

Now what?

It felt like too much of a thrill to stop now. Elora stopped caring. Her heart raced and she grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, pulled him in for another one. Only this time there was much more tongue. Elora threw herself onto him so hard he nearly fell onto his back, but Samson was strong enough to brace her. Her arms wrapped around his neck while the two of them continued to explore each other’s mouths even further. Samson ran his hands up her waist and back, trying to savor every second of this unexpected moment. She tasted like Brandy and he _loved_ it. He prayed to the Maker it wasn't all a sick joke his mind was pulling on him.

It didn't take long before Elora's wandering hands found the waistband of Samson’s breeches. When he felt her fiddling with the laces, he quickly realized what she was after. _The saucy elf._ As much as it killed him to resist, he had to force her to settle the rush she was experiencing. Both of them had been drinking, and the last thing he wanted was to regret this the next day. He pushed her away gently, so as not to offend her eagerness to take their interlude further. She didn't seem to care though. Inquisitor Lavellan was quite persistent. Whatever ounce of self-discipline he had left needed to be taken advantage of immediately before it was too late.

“ _Whoa_ there Inquisitor.” He had to hold her off a bit since she wasn't getting the message.

“Elora,” she corrected as she leaned in to kiss him again, but he blocked her attempt with his hand. Which hardly stopped her. She cast him a seductive stare then took his hand and nibbled on one of his fingers. _Maker,_ this woman.

“Elora, you're drunk,” Samson protested before he pulled away the hand she was biting and caressed her face so she would listen more intently to his words.

Elora grinned confidently, “Oh I've been sober for the last hour.”

Samson looked puzzled and uncertain as to how that was possible. The Herald actually wanted him? How could someone so dazzling desire such a tired old man? He was still a Red Templar and could tear her apart with little effort. Of course there were more creative ways to do so. He still couldn't fathom the thought of Elora wanting him as badly as he did her.

Maker, smite him for trying to refuse her demands. If he was to serve the Inquisitor for the rest of his days, then so be it. He wouldn't fight her anymore. He observed her position for a moment. She was on her knees and right between his legs with her hair cascading over one shoulder. The two of them were intertwined. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Maybe he was stuck in the Fade; forever to be tormented by a Desire demon. Whatever his true reality was, it didn't matter. At this very moment, she was all he wanted.

Elora watched Samson go from dazed to relief in a short amount of time. She cherished his affection for her, but wanted more than just sincerity. The fire in her belly roared with passion. Samson reached up and claimed her mouth once again only this time he was much more aggressive. His stubble scratched her chin and his tongue moved roughly against hers. He was kissing her face raw and it only fueled her desire for him even more.

His mouth traveled to the nape of her neck. There, he sunk a little bit of teeth into her exposed skin. Elora’ entire body reacted to his touch that she shivered hard. His warm breath took her mind to suggestive places and gripped his shoulders as tight as she could without ruining his clothes. Not that she cared much for his clothing. All she really wanted was to rip them away from him. 

Fortunately for her, he had the idea first. There was a draft on her back that gave her a sudden chill. Within seconds Samson untucked her shirt fervently. He helped pull it over her head and with no qualm he detached her brassiere to reveal her ample bosom. Much to his surprise, she was bountiful for an elf. After getting her nudge of consent and without hesitation he took one of her breasts in a firm hand and went to tease her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

Elora let out a satisfied moan and took a nice grip of his hair to pull him closer. The sensation intoxicated her more than the brandy ever could. While he kept his tongue occupied, his other hand roamed to her waistband, slid underneath her trousers, and grabbed her plump bottom. Elora never ceased to amaze him. For such a small little thing she had quite the luscious posterior. Most of her curves were hidden under armor. No one would guess she had such a curvaceous body. The thought made him feel like the luckiest bastard in all of Thedas.

This remarkable epiphany inspired Samson to rid her of her trousers and small clothes. He found her mouth once again and clutched her ass with a generous grip in both hands which quickly became his favorite thing. Elora moaned a breath down his throat like she was the only air he would ever breathe again. In an instant he jerked her closer so that her entire body pressed into him.

Being so stripped within the arms of the evil Templar invigorated Elora. The fact that he was so dangerous made it even more arousing. His control he had over his own strength was just as riveting. The very idea of bending completely to his will had her chest heaving and it became harder to breathe. She adored Samson. He was everything she ever wanted in a lover. Even more than what she once shared with a particular Mage. He was the _perfect_ distraction.

The more she thought about Samson the less she did of Solas. With Samson, there was no mystery or unanswered questions. Solas had made her soft; made her behave like a silly, naive girl in love. With Samson what they was raw and he made her feel like a real woman. She didn't have to overthink her feelings. The infatuation was there from the start even if they tried to deny it for so long. If anything it just built more tension between them.

Their kiss never stopped as she slid into his lap. The new position allowed her to feel his erection trying to free itself. She slid her hand down and glided her palm over the bulge painfully waiting to be released. Samson groaned in delicious pain and tugged her pelvis against his. In one fluid movement he maneuvered her on top of the table where they played Wicked Grace. To ensure Elora would be plenty relaxed, he shoved all the cards and tankards out of the way with a sweep of his arm. For what he was about to do to her was insurmountable. He wanted to pleasure her beyond the level of comprehension.

When she landed with her backside to the table she stared up at Samson hovering above her. He studied her as he unlaced his breeches and freed himself from his tunic. With his lust fully exposed, Elora took a moment to admire it's impressive girth. She sat up halfway and hooked her legs around his hips, yanking him closer. Her languid finesse made him laugh. Before their mouths could collide she stopped with a teasing grin, their lips barely grazing. Elora was such the temptress. She pressed his lust right up against her sex to let him feel the firestorm he created. Samson bit his lip, cursing the excruciating patience he possessed.

To Elora he looked positively mouthwatering. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck so she could guide him wherever she wanted. She leaned in so that she could whisper breathlessly in his ear, “I've wanted you like this the moment you attacked me in your jail cell.”

It was like a siren song. Not even red lyrium could corrupt him as much as her tantalizing words did. To hear that she desired him for so long made him waver to her every need. No matter what she wanted, he was more than prepared to grant it. Her actions were bold and scandalous, but that only made him crave her more. What they were doing was definitely wrong. Possibly even treacherous if anyone found them. Somehow, none of that seemed to matter and there was nothing anyone or anything could do to stop them. There was no going back now. Not when Elora was so persistent with her primal urges.

“You’re sick,” he said bewitchingly.

With both hands he grazed her neck gently with his fingertips. A sudden red glow swirled beneath his skin. It was peculiar watching the lyrium react to their fondling. Elora wasn't expecting to witness such a bizarre occurrence, but it left her equally curious to see what else it would do. Her heart raced with anticipation.

Before she could speak Samson threw her back down by her shoulders on the table without hurting her. It knocked some wind from her lungs and made her beckon for more. He snickered wickedly, pushed her arms above her head, and braced them there. With his free hand he ran his palm up her trembling thigh and lifted it to his lips. With his tongue he licked and kissed her skin, nipping her gently, and giving her gooseflesh. He let her leg rest on his shoulder as his hand caressed her breast.

With a couple of his other fingers Samson went to pinch her nipple to stimulate her senses and made her entire body squirm under his touch. The longer it took him to enter her, the more she whimpered. Anytime Elora thought he was through teasing her, he would just frazzle her even more. His worst was only just beginning when his bedeviled fingers slid down right above her main pleasure point. Once he placed his thumb on her pulsating core Elora breathed laboriously. It was then when he began to rub her moistened nub progressively and watched as each circular movement caused her to coil and beckon for more. Samson did as was demanded, but just when she was at her tipping point he would lessen the pace. His teasing wasn't going to be bearable for much longer. As he continued to toy his lust kept kneading her sex continuously and she moistened more and more with each passing motion.

The rise and fall of her chest was hypnotic, and her moaning was a symphony. He allowed her leg to fall into his hand as he took her opposite leg with the other to scoot her even closer to his hardened member. She wanted to scream at him, and he could tell she was nearing the brink of losing her mind. He slowly guided himself into her with just the tip of his lust. She tried bucking her hips forward to force him access, but he reluctantly receded. Samson's eyes were bloodshot and his evil grin nearly drove her to insanity.

“Beg for it,” he ordered wickedly as he leaned forward and curled his fingers gently around her throat; his eyes ablaze.

“Please,” she pleaded without hesitation, her breathing urgent.

“Please what?” He squeezed her neck and thighs just a little bit more, and she whimpered.

Elora sat up on her elbows and pleaded, “Please, Samson. I beg you. Fuck me.”

He gave the Inquisitor what she wanted with one deep thrust. She almost screamed as he began rocking into her with a strong but steady pace. The pleasure was overwhelming and she let herself fall back again. Samson rose and tucked her legs back farther as he continued to pound his throbbing cock between her quaking thighs, holding her petite frame by the waist.

Elora was just about to curse the dread wolf, but the thought nearly plagued her fruition. She wasn't about to give _him_ the satisfaction nor the credit for this. All the praise was owed to Samson. The Inquisitor called out his name and rocked her hips to match his tempo. Watching her give herself to him so willingly had overwhelmed him to the point of no return. The more he gave the more eager she was to receive. Her body instantly connected with his that there were no hesitations. All doubts had vanished and replaced with pure euphoria.

Elora took every inch of him without any restraint. He thought he was giving her all he had, but she kept calling out for more. The way she contracted around him took every ounce of energy he needed to fulfill her expectations. Samson wanted to prove to her that he was the one and only man that could make her this wild with desire.

Elora rose to claim his mouth while he continued to exert himself. She was nearing the edge of her limits while he pleasured her to the tipping point. Her sex scorched and clenched to relish every second of their blissful passion. This was the best distraction she ever imagined and suddenly sensed the urge to be closer to him. As if he was reading her mind, Samson's arm reached around and pulled her as close as possible. His chest rising and falling against her sweat soaked body.

Elora clutched his shoulders, digging fingers into his flesh trying to brace herself from letting go completely. His free hand went and lifted her slightly by her ass to gain precise momentum. He grunted between breaths like a wild beast; each thrust more rigorous than the last. It was enough to send Elora to the brink of orgasm. In seconds she couldn't hold back any longer and came completely undone. One last push sent her over the edge. The sounds that came out of her made Samson lose all control as he came inside her. All the lyrium in his veins pulsated and flowed as the two moved slowly in tandem.

There was a moment of stunned silence. All that could be heard were their exhausted sighs. Samson remained still and Elora didn't move an inch away from him. It was rare for Samson to feel this alleviated. His sentence foretold of his fate to live the rest of his days in guilt and self-loathing. Yet, it didn’t feel that way with her and he didn't want the moment to end. She saved his life.

Never had the Templar experienced such pleasure in all his days, and he certainly didn't want it to be the last. Losing her would surely kill him, and he didn’t want to face the inevitable reality if he didn’t have to. The way she looked at him with such hunger made him want to take her even further, but he had given her everything. Being with Elora this way had taken quite a lot of stamina. The thought made him smile.

Elora saw that complacent look on his face and kissed him fervidly. She let her fingertips glide down his scruff covered chest before pulling away and said with bated breath, “I could do this all night. How ‘bout another game?”

**Author's Note:**

> I have intentions of writing a more in-depth story to go with this (In fact I do have a first chapter written), but due to my busy schedule, this one shot will have to do. Hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> TheChampion04


End file.
